Chapter Twenty-Eight Running Together #2
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Shunvi, outraged, “but I am most certainly engaged to Lythlet Tairel. And she has told me much about you—about how she suffered greatly at your hands during the seven months she worked as your bookkeeper. She’s spoken of your abuse and exploitation, how your childish temper would flare at her whenever you struggled with your own workload, how you would shout and scream at her like a mindless brute, how you would hit her in your worst moments.
I know of the bruises she hid so her dearest friend wouldn’t worry about her—bruises you gave her.
Have you the temerity to continue casting aspersions on the woman who shall be my wife? ”
He knows how to pronounce temerity , Lythlet thought, unexpectedly delighted by Shunvi’s performance.
Master Winaro spluttered wordlessly, thrown off-course. His eyes flickered in a panic between Lythlet and Shunvi. He had just committed the gravest of sins of Setgadian society: to insult the honesty of a man above him, and worse, to insult the virtue of the one he loved.
Shunvi turned and cupped Lythlet’s face with impossibly warm hands, the sensation making her stomach flutter with an unfamiliar feeling. Am I about to be sick?
“My love,” he said with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, the timbre of his voice deeper than ever, “you must never let anyone speak to you this way again. I know this ghastly man must terrify you, but you’re not alone, and none of us will let him harm you.
Now, please, say what you’ve come to say to him. ”
There was a look in Shunvi’s fathomless eyes that made Lythlet’s heart pound like a child let loose on a kettledrum. Not love, she knew—but an earnest, wholehearted trust in her.
“Thank you, Shunvi,” she said, smiling as he released her face.
If Shunvi’s theatrics hadn’t been enough, her being on first-name basis with him was enough to convince Master Winaro he had made a great many terrible mistakes that day.
Shunvi delivered a piercing glare to the hive-master. “Let’s begin with an apology from you.”
Master Winaro flinched. “I apologize for the way I treated you, Lythlet,” he said through gritted teeth.
She stared, wide-eyed. Never in her life had she expected Master Winaro to show such deference to her.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t mean the apology—the fact they’d brought him down to this level was a victory in itself, kneecapping a giant that had been looming in the recesses of her worst memories.
But Shunvi tut-tutted, wagging his finger left and right. “Surely you know how inappropriate it is to refer to your superiors without their titles.”
Master Winaro blanched. He visibly struggled with the words, “Madame Tanna—”
“She isn’t taking my name,” said Shunvi, exasperated.
“Forgive me, Madame Tairel,” he said, chagrined.
“And remember, my darling,” Shunvi gently said, taking Lythlet’s hand and looking down at her with a smile, “you no longer need to refer to him as Master.”
Lythlet paused, realizing he was right. With their fictional betrothal, Shunvi had just elevated her station above Master Winaro’s. He winked at her then, and she fought the urge to crow in laughter with him.
She stole a peek behind at the other two.
Ilden paused contemplating his downfall from Marcielot Perryweather to Pompatom Tumblebear to nod encouragingly at her.
Desil, refusing to break character, subtly flashed the oath-swearing sign by his hip.
She took a deep breath, feeling her heart quieten, her soul settle.
Far be it for Lythlet to question the wisdom of General Lauturo, but she wondered then if she’d rather rewrite her story into one where she did not have to run alone.
All those grand tales she grew up reading always seemed to center around a lone protagonist—but perhaps life was better lived recognizing the small but certain happiness in having others to run together with, that the spirit of collectivism that had always seemed so foreign to her would not slow her down but pick her up whenever she stumbled.
Raising her head, she met Master Winaro’s gaze calmly, courage restored. “Valanti, I’ve come today to offer you a merchant’s deal.”
“That being what, Madame Tairel?”
“First, I must ask you to identify this substance.” She took from her pocket the wrapped sample Ilden had stolen and set it before him.
Valanti glanced suspiciously at it, flicking the corners of the cloth apart until the yellow block sat before him.
He adjusted the magnifying bifocals on his nose and jabbed the sample with a long pair of metallic tongs.
After a moment, he looked up sharply and hissed, “This is golden rot. How came you to possess this?”
Lythlet exchanged a glance with the three men, all heartened by the confirmation.
“Riverside flats are being built for the highborn in Inejio,” she explained. “And this is being used in their construction.”
The hive-master startled, understanding the implication. “The builders are being exposed to this every day? A year of huffing in this dust, and they’ll be wheezing themselves into an early grave.”
She nodded. “These builders are unregistered, with neither the watchmen nor the health wards as recourse. They’re being tricked into early deaths for the sake of the completion of these flats.”
“Who is the master-builder?”
“A fellow named Westiro Asa.”
Valanti frowned, eyes clouding over in recognition. “I’m familiar with the man. A few of my friends in the architectural trade have mentioned him before—never for anything good. I can’t say I’m surprised this is his work.”
She nodded, glad he had knowledge of the matter.
Valanti leveled a steely glare at her. “So what have you come to me for?”
She took a deep breath. “We wish to go to the gazettes with this. To protect the unregistered, we want their claim against Westiro Asa to be done by a third-party. So I’ve come to request you spearhead this case for us.”
Valanti’s eyes bulged. “You want me to lead these claims against Asa? You’re mad!
Asa is in league with high-ranking fellows in the United Setgad Party.
Look at how those politicking bastards have shrugged off Corio Brandolas’s accusations of cronyism and corruption all these years—with their glib tongues and fat pockets, they’ll do all they can to rain hellfire upon me if I challenge them. ”
Lythlet leveled with him. “But you are not powerless, Valanti. You’re a respectable middle merchant with long decades in your trade and friends in the right places.
With your name attached to the forefront of these accusations, many would be convinced by your expertise and reputation in hive-keeping.
This city is filled with sheep in desperate need of a shepherd’s crook to flock under, and yours just might be the most effective one. ”
“Be that as it may, Asa’s political compatriots are likely bankrolling numerous gazettes. You’ll struggle to find one willing—or even able!—to expose this scandal.”
She nodded. “That’s true. But a gazette-master is ultimately a merchant of news, and surely there must be one eager to break earth-shattering word of luxurious flats aimed at the highborn being built with poisonous rot—their gazettes would be flying off the racks the moment the baltascar-blocks finish stamping the words down.
I have a hunch we’ll be best served by targeting the gazettes that have been charitable in their reporting of Corio Brandolas—those surely can’t be in the pocket of the United Setgad Party.
We can work together to find the right gazette to work with, Valanti. ”
“Absolutely not,” he said, waving them off. “There’s nothing in this for me.”
She shook her head. “I came to propose a merchant’s deal, did I not? The risk you undertake will be rewarded fairly.”
He glowered suspiciously at her. “With what?”
“With the very things you crave most—an opportunity to grow your business and your station in life.”
He wavered, curiosity coming over him.
She continued, “I’ve done the books for you for a long time, and I know your business as well as you do.
We’re both aware of one thing: you’ve maximized your market here in the south.
Your only hope for growth is to expand to the northern or central markets.
But try as you might, you haven’t been able to gain a foothold there.
The competition is stiff, and there are established hive-masters up there who’ve a stranglehold on their market.
But helm this case, and you’ll become a known figure to every soul in Setgad.
Imagine your name in the headlines of every gazette for weeks upon weeks, your expertise in hive-keeping advertised.
The fame you’ll earn from this will grant you many new customers, and if you play your cards right, the opportunity to expand your business beyond the south. ”
Hope kindled in the growing silence as Master Winaro considered her proposal.
But then he frowned, shaking his head, “You are asking me to take on considerable risk to help you. I may be desperate to expand my business further north, but I fail to see the necessity for me to work with you on this. I’ll find another way to succeed—”
“The clock is ticking on your trade, and you know it, Valanti,” she said calmly.
“Solar-augmented baltascar bulbs are the way of the future, and slowly but surely, they will replace the hives up north one by one. Sit this out if you want to be a fool, and watch your craft become obsolete. This is an unbelievably timely marketing opportunity for you to take advantage of—you will be granted fame and status in this brief pocket of time when it can still be useful for you. Make your riches now, Valanti, before your viable market vanishes.”
“But whether you start a northern branch or are stuck with this one, you really must treat your staff better from now on,” Desil burst out. “No more beating them whenever you’re in a foul mood.”
“Quite right, my overly enthusiastic guardsman,” said Shunvi, cheerfully clapping his back.
He regarded Valanti with a stern eye. “Rest assured, hive-master, if I ever hear further word of your maltreatment of your staff, I’ll be sure to let all my friends in the north know of your shameful habits.
It’d be most devastating to your success and your reputation, I assure you. ”
Master Winaro flushed beet-red. “I never meant to—”
Shunvi waved an irreverent hand at him. “A man’s dignity is revealed in his actions, not his excuses. All that matters to me is you agree to reform your ways and champion our cause.”
Master Winaro stayed silent for long moments, head bowed, moments that made the anxiety in Lythlet’s belly crawl to life. Had she sufficiently tempted this man with a deal he couldn’t refuse?
He raised his hand—and she had a brief premonition of being slapped, that single gesture dragging to the forefront of her memory the countless times he had done so.
But then it hung in front of her, stiff, waiting for her to shake it. The hive-master lifted his head at last, eyes glinting in the bioluminescent light. “Madame Tairel, we have a deal. I will help you avenge the unregistereds.”